


Home

by YMFaery (Young_Murdered_Faery)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-19
Updated: 2005-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Young_Murdered_Faery/pseuds/YMFaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home is where the heart is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> AU ignoring anime ending; assumes restored Al; set around 2 years after anime events. Beta'ed by...*thinks* [](http://cosmorific.livejournal.com/profile)[**cosmorific**](http://cosmorific.livejournal.com/), [](http://hakuryuu.livejournal.com/profile)[**hakuryuu**](http://hakuryuu.livejournal.com/), and [](http://lazulisong.livejournal.com/profile)[**lazulisong**](http://lazulisong.livejournal.com/). Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/steelandsparks/profile)[**steelandsparks**](http://community.livejournal.com/steelandsparks/) fic contest.  
>  Originally intended to be part of a longer work I never completed.

The silence that greeted General Roy Mustang as he entered the house felt slightly different this afternoon.

A quick glance down and to the left provided the reason, and the tension he had been vaguely aware of for the past week eased. He let out a breath and smiled as he shut the door, then took a few steps to the coffee table. He put down the bag of food containers he had been carrying on the table, then leaned on the armchair to pry off his boots. He placed the boots neatly in the space to the left of the door, silently rebuking a neighboring pair of ankle-length boots that, from all indications, had been flung one by one against the wall. After stepping into a pair of worn blue house slippers, he shrugged off his coat, draped it over his arm, picked the bag back up, and walked over to the coat rack. He eyed the dusty brown cloak occupying one hook, wrinkled his nose, and made sure to place his coat on the hook farthest from the cloak.

When he turned to scan the room, he saw nothing obviously out of place and heard nothing unusual. He frowned slightly. It took a moment to find the doorway to the dining room and kitchen; two days was not enough to have become familiar with the house. Setting down the food containers on the counter separating the dining room from the kitchen caused meat bun and chow mein aroma to waft out, reminding him lunch had been five hours ago. He turned away from temptation and began to unbutton his uniform as he headed for the stairs.

Only a few squeaks and creaks escaped as he ascended, but the second floor was just as silent as the first. Or it seemed so at first, but as Roy approached his bedroom he became aware of soft, deep breaths, and the rustle of curtains moved by wind. The door was ajar, and he eased it open.

He was vaguely aware of the open suitcase on the floor before the dresser and the wrinkled pile of native clothing near the closet, but he had eyes only for the sleeping figure sprawled diagonally across the large bed. Edward Elric was lying on his side, automail arm folded beneath his head, left hand holding a pencil that slanted and was currently leaving a wavy line on a notebook lying open flat before the pillows. His loose blond hair spilled behind him, gleaming like spilled straw in the late afternoon sun. Roy raised an eyebrow at the white shirt Edward wore: the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the tails almost touching his bent knees and partly obscuring light blue boxers. The same shirt he'd laid over the chair for tomorrow before leaving for work this morning.

His breath huffed out quietly in silent amusement as he shook his head. Then he carefully extracted both pencil and notebook from the bed and laid them on the bedside table. He glanced back; Ed slept on, his face relaxed and open, his chest moving with each deep breath. He resisted the urge to brush Ed's bangs from his face, and instead drew up the bedspread to cover the sleeping figure. Ed didn't stir.

Roy moved away from the bed and walked over to the closet to grab his white - well, more of a beige color now - robe. The window apparently had been oiled recently; it was almost silent as Roy lowered it until it was only open two inches. He then went back downstairs to the bathroom, hung up the robe, and had stripped down to his pants before he noticed the shampoo bottle was missing. He blinked, considered, and then, bare-chested, went to the adjoining washroom. The bottle was on the washing machine next to the washbasin, and when he glanced into the basin, he saw the clog in the drain. He half-smiled as he made a mental note to remind Edward to take care of it.

He brought the bottle back and placed it on the bathtub ledge before fully undressing, dumping everything in the hamper. He fiddled with the spigots until the water was sufficiently hot. Then, with a small sigh, he stepped in and closed the curtain.

Roy stood under the spray for a minute or two, letting the water saturate his hair and stream down his skin. He concentrated on feeling the water trail over his body from head to foot, trying to drive out the unsettling revelations the last few days had brought regarding this base. The numerous problems that seemed minor back at Central took on more sinister tones now that he was in Libo, and he had a sinking feeling the worst was yet to be seen.

Shaking his head violently to drive out that train of thought caused him to splash water everywhere. Letting out another sigh, he shut off the spigots to save the hot water, and opened the shampoo bottle. The green apple scent gave him only slight pause; it was much better than the sour lemon one Ed tried two months ago, and not as cloyingly sweet as the cherry jam one from last year. As he lathered, he idly wondered from which vendor in Central Ed had gotten the green apple.

Central. The city where he had lived for most of his military career, and where he and Edward held joint ownership on a cozy suburban home. There was room for Alphonse as well, but he didn't visit as often as he used to, spending more time this year in Risenberg with Winry and Pinako. As such, Al and Gracia Hughes would take turns caring for the house, while Roy and Ed spent who knew how many months trying to clean up a number of supposedly small problems at the base in Libo. Only three days into his stay, Roy had the bad feeling that the cleanup might take over a year, if not longer.

And yet…

As he turned the spigots back on to rinse off the shampoo, he mused on whether he missed the house as much as he had thought he would. The house in Central was familiar and had more conveniences. And while this place was the best of the housing offered here, it was barely half the size.

Yet that house had felt too big, too empty, once Edward had left, Roy thought as he lathered up with pine-scented soap. Ed had gone ahead of the main group on a reconnaissance mission to assess the condition of the city and the base, and to find out what the citizens' sentiments were toward the military. His absence drove home the fact that it was the first field mission Roy had assigned him for over six months. The previous one had lasted a day at most. It had been three days before Roy and the bulk of his troops left Central; three days to become keenly aware of how silent the house was, how empty the bed felt. Add to that the two full days of constant travel before they arrived in Libo, and Roy was ready to track Ed down the minute he got off the train. Captain Hawkeye had to intercept him before he left the station, and told him in stern tones that he should give Fullmetal more time to complete his mission, Sir, and that the general might want to consider taking a few days to settle down and put his new quarters in order first, something Fullmetal might appreciate as well.

He chuckled as he rinsed, and wondered how pathetic he must have looked for Hawkeye to make such a pointed comment.

The sun was touching the horizon when Roy donned his robe and left the bathroom. He briefly wondered if he should bring the food, then decided against it. Ed was never hungry when newly awakened, as if his appetite took longer to rouse than he did, and Roy didn't want to eat alone again, even though Ed was in the house.

Roy had to stifle a laugh upon re-entering the bedroom. Lying in the rays of the setting sun had apparently been too much for Ed: not only had he awakened enough to shrug off the bedspread, he'd moved until he was lying almost on top of the pillows, at the shadiest part of the bed. Ed also was curled up so that only his curved back and feet could be seen from the door.

Ed didn't move when Roy closed the door and crossed over to the bed. He did sink slightly into the dip when Roy climbed in, but he didn't stir until Roy rolled him into his arms and brushed his bangs out of his face. His eyes fluttered half-open, revealing drowsy gold eyes. "Roy?" he murmured.

Roy stared at Ed's relaxed face and the affectionate trust in his eyes, felt the solid warmth of Ed's body in his arms, and was swamped with more emotions than he could name. It almost terrified him, but instead of resisting, he drew Ed tight against him, buried his face in gold hair, and felt all lingering tension flee as he let himself drown.

"I'm home."


End file.
